


Coping Mechanisms

by CaelumLapis



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Gen, Spoilers: Specific for Season Three’s Penelope and Birthright., Spoilers: Specific for Season Two’s The Big Game and Revelations.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24691117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaelumLapis/pseuds/CaelumLapis
Summary: There’s an urgency drumming through his fingers against the table and his feet on the floor.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Coping Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer is, I don’t own them, not even a little. This functions as a coda to Birthright. The BAU goes for their drink, or five.

_Don’t despise your coping mechanisms. They keep you alive while you figure out what to do._

The bar is noisy, its light and motion surrounding him. There’s a creak in the back left leg of his chair, and Reid can feel every inch of his skin crawling at the sound. He calculates the amount of compression necessary to reach tensile strength, but that isn’t enough to distance him from the claustrophobic bar. There’s an urgency drumming through his fingers against the table and his feet on the floor. His hair is scratching the back of his neck and he’s uncomfortably warm. When Rossi clears his throat, Reid jolts away from him and stares down at the precise curves of the wood grain of the tabletop. He knows this feeling, the bitter taste in the back of his throat and the pain flaring to life behind his eyes. He’d close them, but there’s a small cabin and a hideous trinity waiting there for him. 

Looking back up, he notices Morgan aiming a smile at Rossi that is tense around the edges. Reid knows that one. He sees it when Morgan’s about to stop listening to things like unsub-related statistics or exciting new theories in particle physics and discrete math. It means that Morgan wants to be somewhere else. 

The headache lurking behind Reid’s eyes worsens as he stands up. The expression on Prentiss’s face makes his fingers twitch, so Reid averts his eyes and shoves his hands into his pockets where they can twitch in peace. He tries to smile like Morgan, but he’s not sure if it’s working.

“I’ve got stuff to catch up on, and there’s a book I’m reading on fluctuation theory, nonlinear wave interaction and plasma turbulence, and it’s at home, so I’ll see you tomorrow.” He’s talking too fast, fingernails biting into his palms. 

Morgan and Rossi both nod politely, Prentiss looks intrigued, and JJ’s expression is closed and quiet. The smooth metal of the door handle is in Reid’s hand before it registers that he’s made it this far. He can feel the weight of their stares against his back, yet he keeps going. Outside the air is cooler, with hints of fall in the occasional breeze. 

Home is quiet, and Reid closes the door behind him, tensing at the bang. The first burn is from the needle, the second is from what’s inside. It warms to something pleasant in seconds, a soft blanket being tucked around him that quiets the people in his head. He’s floating with it now, weightless and warm. When he closes his eyes, the cabin bleeds away at the edges until it’s gone, taking the father, son, and unholy spirit with it. The pain behind his eyes mellows from a sharp stab to a dull throb, and the stretch of his mouth tickles at the corners. He reaches up and rubs his lips, breathing around his fingertips. The smile on his face feels nothing at all like Morgan’s. 

~~~

Morgan hums thoughtfully as the door slams behind Reid, the sound surprisingly loud in the post-midnight quiet of the bar. Weird kid. He catches Prentiss watching him and when he shrugs, she looks away. Morgan finishes his drink and nods at Rossi and Prentiss as he stands. He smiles at JJ and she smiles back. 

“Night.” Morgan shoots Rossi another look before he goes, just to annoy him. His answering glare says it worked, and Morgan sneaks a grin as he closes the door behind him. 

It’s quiet outside and nothing registers as suspicious enough to concern him. Morgan reaches his car, glances inside and around it, and then unlocks the door. The steering wheel is cool beneath his palms, comfortable and familiar. The engine purrs to life when he turns the key, and Morgan drives until the world wraps around him as it should. 

He parks on the street, turns off his lights, and studies the quiet calm of the neighborhood for a moment before turning his attention to her apartment. Garcia’s living room light is still on, and he wonders what she’s doing. He has a moment of panic before her shape crosses the blinds and he remembers to breathe. She keeps odd hours. He’s tempted to tell her that he knows she’s scared, but he’d rather make sure she has no reason to be. 

The light in her living room goes out and Morgan relaxes against his seat, waiting. The bedroom lights up seven minutes and twenty-six seconds later. He can’t see the bathroom from this angle, but he’s worked out the amount of time she usually spends in there. She has a routine, and it’s becoming familiar. Her bedroom darkens nine minutes and fifty-eight seconds later, and he waits for another twenty minutes, just to be safe. 

“Good night, babygirl,” Morgan says quietly, easing his car away from the curb. He waits until he’s two streets away to turn his headlights on, and then he goes home. 

~~~

Prentiss watches Reid leave, adding to her growing tally of Reid-specific concerns. The bottle is warming in her hands and she takes a swallow, rolling the beer over her tongue and enjoying its flavor. Morgan leaves a few minutes later, baiting Rossi on his way out. Rossi downs his drink quickly and arranges a crumpled wad of bills from his pocket into an orderly pile on the table, his expression irritated. 

Beside her, JJ makes a soft sound of protest, and then quiets when Rossi looks up at her. Prentiss wants to tell her this is a predictably male thing, that Rossi and Morgan are marking everything within a fifty mile radius of them and will keep on doing so until something gives. This is what Morgan does, she’s decided, instead of admitting that he misses Gideon and was comfortable with him. 

Rossi stands and nods curtly to them. “Good night,” he adds, as if an afterthought before leaving the table. 

“Night,” Prentiss echoes, taking another sip of her beer before pushing it away. JJ smiles briefly in his general direction, her fingers rubbing absently against the stem of her cocktail glass. 

Their waitress approaches the table and collects the bills Rossi left behind, tallying them quickly. “Another round, ladies?” JJ makes an agreeing sound, draining the last of the dark liquid in her cocktail glass before handing it over. The waitress tucks an errant strand of brunette hair behind her ear and gives Prentiss an expectant smile.

“Coffee,” Prentiss answers but shakes her head when the waitress reaches for her bottle. Prentiss wishes she wore a nametag, because it would help. Prentiss likes to know people’s names. 

The coffee stings her tongue, tasting burnt and forgotten. She watches JJ cup her glass and take a long drink. It’s more than she should, but Prentiss isn’t about to call her on it. Not after today. JJ pauses and looks at her, mouth opening as if she’s planning to say something and hasn’t picked the right words yet. She closes it, smiling tight and strained before taking another swallow. 

Prentiss pushes her coffee away and gestures for the waitress, who makes her way back to their table, rosy-cheeked and perky. “Ready to call it a night?” 

“Yeah.” Prentiss smiles up at her, and decides that a little comfort will go a long way. “What’s your name?” 

The waitress’s answering smile is genuine, yet a little surprised. “Amber.”

As Amber walks away, JJ fumbles through her purse, setting her keys on the table. Taking another sip of coffee, Prentiss slips her hand over JJ’s keys, palming them and moving them to her own pocket. JJ downs her drink and sets her glass back down on the table. She’s moving just a little too cautiously to be entirely sober. 

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” JJ agrees, with just enough of a wobble in her voice that Prentiss feels validated. Amber returns to the table with the check and Prentiss takes it. JJ again fumbles for her keys and then gives the now empty spot on the table a betrayed look. 

“I’m driving you home,” Prentiss tells her, ignoring JJ’s offered credit card and providing her own instead. Amber takes the card and gives Prentiss a knowing smile before heading off. 

“I’m fine,” JJ replies, but Prentiss knows she isn’t. 

“It’s on my way,” Prentiss answers and that’s not entirely accurate, but some things are worth a detour. This is one of them. JJ sighs but doesn’t argue the point. 

The night air is crisp and Prentiss wraps her fingers around her keys, giving the few remaining cars a cursory glance before heading toward her own. JJ follows, and Prentiss can hear the unevenness in her steps. They’re in the car and driving before JJ speaks.

“Why?” It sounds hollow. She could be asking about the ride home or any number of things, but Prentiss knows she isn’t.

“I’m still working out the why,” Prentiss answers, and it’s an honest answer. She doesn’t understand why an unsub would hunt, rape, mutilate, cannibalize, or do any number of equally horrible things to their victims. The area of distinction between where she ends and an unsub begins is rapidly shrinking. She doesn’t want to understand them or think about them more than she already does. 

JJ is quiet, and it’s a heavy silence. Prentiss wonders what she’s thinking, what’s sitting taut and unspoken at the corners of her eyes, what she sees in the cases that she doesn’t share with the rest of the team. 

“When I went with Reid. To the farmhouse.” JJ’s voice is unsteady and soft. Prentiss holds in a breath and listens. 

“He had dogs. I killed them. They attacked me. I–” JJ stops, sounding as if she’s bitten down on what was waiting to be said next. “Reid’s not okay, is he.” It’s not a question.

“No, he isn’t,” Prentiss stops her car at the curb. JJ’s house is what Prentiss expected to see, pretty and neat, with a well-kept yard. She’s learning that the outside of a house says very few honest things about who lives inside. 

“Some of the cases remind me of that barn. Of _him_ , and the things he did to his victims.” Her voice falters, “and to Reid.” She takes a deep breath. “I think about it. About the cases I don’t take and the ones that I do. About how different it is when one of us is hurt.”

It’s still fresh enough to catch Prentiss off guard, and she can’t stop the flood of images. The haunted look in Hotch’s eyes when he announced that Haley was filing for divorce, the ferocity in Morgan’s when an unsub targets children. Reid being tortured, Garcia in her hospital bed, and JJ shooting the unsub who’d put her there.

JJ pauses again, and this is a longer one. “I killed him for Garcia. And for Reid.” Her voice is shaky and quiet; like she’s reaching for something she can’t get to, talking around it. “If I have to, I’ll do it again.” 

Prentiss knows what JJ is looking for; something that will make her different from the cases on her desk. From the people they chase, the ones they catch, and the ones they kill.

“I’m not afraid. Of dogs.” JJ sounds as if she’s swallowing a lot of things to say that. Things that she doesn’t quite believe yet. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“What were you expecting?” Prentiss regrets asking the second after the sentence is out there and waiting in the quiet car. The windshield is starting to fog around the edges. JJ doesn’t answer and Prentiss doesn’t push her, just watches more and more of the windshield becoming very slowly opaque. She’s hasn’t decided if it’s better to recognize what’s out there or to avoid seeing it. 

“To be afraid of them.” It’s not just dogs in that statement, and Prentiss reaches over before she’s sure it’s a good idea. JJ’s hand is cold and smaller than she was expecting, but her grip is strong enough to _hurt_. 

The grip is what tells Prentiss that JJ will be okay. That she’ll show up in the morning with a cup of something fragrant and warm, ready to see the cases that the rest of the team won’t have to, and the ones that they will. That she’ll smile and say she’s fine, even when she isn’t, until she is again. Prentiss realizes that there’s a thin line between where she is and the place an unsub reaches to become a case that lands on JJ’s desk, and it’s moments like these that keep her on this side of it.

“You’re not, and that’s something,” she answers.

JJ is quiet for a minute, and when she replies, her voice is lighter, as if she’s hit the same line and realized that she already knew it was there. “Yeah, it is.” She opens the car door and squeezes Prentiss’ hand gently before letting go. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” This time the smile reaches her eyes. 

Prentiss exhales, long and low. “See you tomorrow,” she answers. She watches JJ climb the steps to her front door and close it behind her, and then she goes home.


End file.
